Clean Sheets, Quiet Smiles, and a Mother’s Prayer — Jaxen’s 10th Birthday.2286
He took it all in last night, and it was wonderful.
The clean hotel sheets, the hum of the air conditioner, the glow of the big TV — all small luxuries that meant everything to him.
For the first time in a long while, he felt safe.
He was warm, clean, and ready to rest.
This morning, as the sunlight filtered through the Orlando hotel curtains,
Jaxen McCall turned ten years old.
Ten — a number that once seemed so far away, almost unreachable.
But he made it.
And that alone felt like a miracle.
His mother,
Randa McCall, sat quietly beside him, watching her son’s chest rise and fall.
To her, every breath he took was a victory.
Every giggle, every glance, every movement was something to hold onto.
She whispered, “Happy birthday, my warrior,” and smiled through tears.
Jaxen is Autistic and non-verbal.
Words don’t always come easily to him, but love does.
You can see it in his eyes, in the way he reaches for his mom’s hand, in the way he presses his head against her shoulder when he’s tired.
He communicates in laughter, in touch, in presence.
And even without words, his message is clear — he’s a fighter.
For two years now, Jaxen has been battling adrenal cancer
, a rare and aggressive disease that has tested his small body in unimaginable ways.
Chemotherapy has taken much of his energy, his hair, his appetite — but not his spirit.
“He’s been through so much,” Randa says softly.
“But he never gives up. Even on his hardest days, he still smiles.”
The McCalls live in a public housing community in
Pinson, Alabama.
Life has never been easy, but Randa finds strength in her sons.
She is a single mother raising two children with Autism, juggling doctor appointments, sleepless nights, and impossible choices.
“Some days, it’s choosing between paying for childcare or staying home and losing work,” she admits.
“It’s a rollercoaster that never stops.
But today — today is about Jaxen.
It’s about celebrating what he’s overcome and the joy he still carries inside him.
Thanks to the Marty Lyons Foundation, Jaxen’s wish came true: a birthday trip to Universal Studios and Legoland.
A dream for any child, but especially for one who has spent so much of his life in hospital rooms.
The foundation, started by former Alabama football star Marty Lyons, gives “dream trips” to children with terminal or life-threatening illnesses — children like Jaxen, whose days are filled with doctor visits and pain, but whose hearts are full of hope.
When Randa got the call confirming the trip, she cried.
“It was the first time in so long that I saw real joy on his face,” she said.
Last night, as they arrived in Orlando, Jaxen’s eyes lit up.
He didn’t need words to say what he felt.
The way he clutched his stuffed animal and laughed softly as he jumped on the hotel bed said it all.
Clean sheets, cold air, bright lights — it was heaven to him.
And for a moment, cancer didn’t matter.
Only joy did.
This morning, he woke up early — eager for his big day.
He may not speak, but Randa could feel his excitement in the way he pointed toward the window, the way his eyes darted with anticipation.
Ten years old.
Double digits.
A number that holds so much meaning for a boy who’s defied every odd.
When Jaxen was first diagnosed, doctors didn’t know if he would live to see another birthday.
His adrenal cancer was advanced, spreading quickly.
But Jaxen fought.
Round after round of chemo, hospital stays, surgeries — his little body endured what even grown men would fear.
And still, he smiled.
Still, he found light in every day.
His mother remembers nights spent by his bedside, holding his hand as machines beeped softly in the dark.
She whispered prayers that felt more like pleads: Please, just let me see him grow.
Some days, those prayers were answered in small miracles — a day without pain, a laugh, a moment of calm.
But the hardest part, Randa says, is the uncertainty.
“You never know what tomorrow will bring.
One day, he’s laughing and walking, and the next, he’s in pain again.”
Her voice cracks, but she quickly steadies herself.
“He’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.
He teaches me every day what love really looks like.”
The trip is meant to be a celebration — a brief escape from the harshness of cancer.
At Universal Studios, Jaxen’s eyes widened at the sight of roller coasters and colorful parades.
He couldn’t ride them all, but he didn’t need to.
Just watching, feeling the music and lights, was enough to make him laugh.
For Randa, that laugh was priceless — a reminder that life, even in its hardest moments, still offers joy.
Later, they visited Legoland, where Jaxen spent hours marveling at the bright bricks and figures.
He ran his fingers along the displays, smiling at the vibrant colors.
It was a world built from imagination — something he understood better than most.
For a few precious hours, Jaxen wasn’t a cancer patient.
He was simply a boy — curious, happy, alive.
As the sun set, Randa watched him drift off to sleep in the hotel bed again.
His small frame looked peaceful under the covers, his stuffed toy tucked beneath his arm.
Tears welled in her eyes.
“I don’t know what tomorrow holds,” she whispered.
“But tonight, he’s safe.
He’s happy.
And that’s enough.”
The foundation coordinator later said, “Jaxen reminded us why we do this.
Even without words, he said more with his smile than most could say in a lifetime.”
And it’s true — in that smile, there was courage.
In his quietness, there was strength.
In his every breath, there was a story of endurance and grace.
As his 10th birthday weekend came to an end, Randa knew the battle wasn’t over.
Chemo would start again soon.
Hospitals, tests, waiting rooms — they would all return.
But for this brief moment, they had memories that cancer couldn’t touch.
Pictures filled her phone: Jaxen laughing, Jaxen pointing, Jaxen holding her hand in front of a giant Lego dragon.
And when days grow dark again, she’ll look at those photos to remember — there is still light.
Because Jaxen isn’t just surviving.
He’s living.
And every laugh, every breath, every sunrise he sees is proof that even in the hardest battles, joy can still bloom.
💙
“He took it all in last night,” Randa said softly. “And it was wonderful.”
Her son — the boy who couldn’t speak but taught the world how to love — slept peacefully, ready to dream again.